Breaking Point
by MagicInHerMadness
Summary: Things are different now that Ginny knows the truth. Mike isn't her guy anymore. Bawson.


Ginny's giving the treadmill its usual workout when Al calls her into his office. She only hears him over the blaring music of her headphones—Beyoncé because it's Monday and she needs the motivation—is changing songs. She stops, towels off, then follows him into his office. The AC raises goosebumps on her clammy skin and the look on his usually frowny face makes her stomach tight.

"What's up?" She manages to keep her tone light but her mind is racing. Did Mike tell him about her damn wrist hurting? Would he really have betrayed her like that? The thought wouldn't have even occurred to her before— But that was before. She couldn't say what the new Mike would do.

"I need a favor, Ginny." Al's one of the few people who always calls her Ginny. He'd confessed his love of the name under the influence of too many scotch neats at a press function. Apparently his first love had been a dark-haired girl named Ginny. Ginny politely smiled at the story, throwing Mike a panicked look, and he quickly came to her rescue. The memory made her stomach tighter.

"Yeah?" Part of her wonders why they're having this conversation. His orders usually come through Mike, and the memory makes her realize how long it's been since she saw him. It's been nearly a month since they had one of their snarky exchanges, shared a smile. Since she saw them—him and Amelia—talking hot and heavy outside the clubhouse, more hands than words, she's made it her personal mission to avoid him. She does her workouts, plays her games, keeps her head down.

"Break Mendez in for me."

Ginny knows she's made some headway—she's always been wildly successful when she turns it on, forgets she's human—but she didn't think she was quite ready to take anyone under her wing. And what about Mike. "What about Mike?"

"Mike's got a pinched nerve in his shoulder. He says he's fine but we're giving him some PT just to be sure. And he's been grouchier than usual. I just think you'll have a little more success with Mendez right now. One rookie to another, you know."

She nods and stands, thinking more about Mike than Mendez. Why wouldn't he tell her about his shoulder? _Oh_ , she thinks when she realizes she's put their text thread on Do Not Disturb, when she remembers she's given him up. "Okay."

She leaves the office and heads for her locker, surprised to find Angel Mendez there. He smiles almost shyly and she's even more surprised, having expected some bravado from him. The Padres had done some pretty shady dealings to get him from Cuba, and only Al knew what they paid to speed up his naturalization. She figured all that effort would have swelled his rookie head, but he seems almost timid as he leans against the locker beside hers. "Hey."

"Hey," he replies, not meeting her eyes.

She frowns at him, but uses his lowered gaze to appraise him. He's cute, his cheekbones delicately crafted and his eyes a green-hazel under his thick lashes. His hair is shining black, coils of curls pulled back into a knot. He's almost pretty. "What?"

He blushes and her eyebrows raise. He shrugs. "Can't believe I get to work with you. You're Ginny Baker. My baby sister has your jersey."

It's Ginny' turn to blush. She still isn't sure what to say when people moon over her. So she shrugs. "You're the hot stuff now."

He laughs a little, shakes his head. His accent is lilting, almost musical, and she wonders if he sings. He looks like he could have been a choir boy once upon a time. "So when do we start?"

"You wanna go now?" she asks.

He nods almost eagerly. "Whatever you say, Baker."

She looks at him and sees the look, the wide-eyed hero worship that had undoubtedly been on her own face when she met Mike.

X

They have an easy rhythm. Maybe it's his eagerness to learn. Maybe she's making the extra effort to befriend him since she's missing her ace. Whatever it is, they've clicked. Everyone in the clubhouse notices their bond, especially Mike. Ginny catches his eyes more than once, but she always looks away, goes on with her work. She doesn't expect Mendez to notice the chill between them until he says something almost absently while they're eating lunch at her apartment.

"What happened with you and Lawson? I thought he was your guy."

Her stomach clenches then drops and her eyes are hot with tears before she can even make sense of why she's suddenly so hurt. He _was_ her guy. "Stuff just changed. It happens. It might happen between you and me."

He puts down his taco then turns to look at her. "Ginny, I have five sisters. I'm no expert on women but you've got that look, like your heart's broken. Not all the time. I've really only seen it once that I'm sure of. You were calling me off and you looked up at me like you expected…someone else. And then you frowned like you'd lost your best friend."

She almost didn't respond, didn't want to dignify the situation with her stupid tears, but there they were, running over and she's choking out a sob before she can swallow it. "I… I thought we were more than we were. I misunderstood."

Mendez shook his head. "You did not. He looks at me with murder in his eyes. Whatever you felt, he felt too. You are both grieving."

She's crying in earnest now, blubbering in her hands, until he squeezes her knee. She makes herself stop, harshly wipes her eyes. "Now you're gonna tell everyone I'm a fucking crybaby."

He shook his head. "I would not break your confidence."

She shakes her head, uses spare napkins to wipe her red face. "I'm sorry."

There's something about the way he says "Me too" that makes her turn to look at him, and she suddenly sees him differently, as more than her rookie for just a moment. He doesn't resist when she kisses him, but he doesn't reciprocate either. He's just there, and when she pulls away, when she realizes she's crossed the line, he speaks quickly. "It's okay."

She's completely off the rails now and goes for another kiss, licking her ways inside his mouth. The way he holds her is almost chaste and he lets her get her fill, but Ginny isn't satisfied. She huffs as she pushes off him. "God why can't you be a normal guy and take advantage of me?"

"I have to look you in the eye after," he replies as he sits up. "Your feelings are hurt."

"I just want…" Her look is almost pleading. "Want me."

"It wouldn't fix anything. I'm not him." She sighs, leans back on the couch, and he scoots closer, wraps his arms around her. She lets him hold her, takes a few deep breaths to steady her hammering heart. He lets her touch his hair, loose from its usual knot. She traces his cheekbones, then his lips, wondering when she became the kind of girl who just needed validation. Or was she always?

"Is it me?" she finally asks because she's sure he'll tell the truth.

"No. I would make love to you if you asked, but you are asking for more than that, yes?"

She looks up at him shyly. "Not right now."

She's lying and he knows but he doesn't say so. She needs to lie. They undress separately, and Ginny thinks there's something almost vulgar about the way they come together. He squeezes her flesh, bites her soft places, groans so low in her ear. The sound their bodies make, a wet suction of flesh meeting and separating, rings in her ears. Why it feels so good, she can't articulate, but she moans on, feeling ever throe of pleasure. She clings desperately, a tangle of sinewy arms and legs, and he holds her like she needs it because she does. Her phone starts ringing on the dresser and she looks over at it. She knows without seeing the screen who it is and suddenly her eyes are wet on his shoulder. His hips rock to a stop and he just holds her, muttering his apology again as she try to sniffle away a cry that desperately wants out.

"It's fine. Keep going," she blubbers and he does even though it isn't. They finish and he lingers for a moment, waiting for instructions because he's her rookie and listening to her is what he does. Ginny brushes his hair back from his young face. They're the same age but she feels responsible for him, probably because of what she'd just tasked him with, what Al had tasked her with. "Go. I'm fine."

He leaves and she sits in the shower, finally cries loud and ugly where no one can hear her, mourns the loss of something so new and blooming inside her that she hadn't even named it love yet.

X

The next time she sees him, her stomach drops like she's just seen Mike and she briefly wonders what will be different between them. She doesn't have the strength to lose another friendship. But he says nothing about that afternoon, just shows her his new glove, beautifully brown with its oiled leather.

"Look," she starts, then stops because she hasn't thought of what to say.

He shakes his head, looks at her just so, and she's fine when she closes her mouth because they understand each other. He understands that she meant no harm, had no intention of blurring any lines. His face is still its sunny self, his eyes not looking at her any differently. For a moment she wonders what he'd look like with a beard, and he seems to feel her wondering. "What?"

She shrugs, almost doesn't tell him. But the words come out because she's a masochist. "Just thinking you'd be handsome with a beard."

He gets it immediately but doesn't go there, instead just smiles. "I could get into nightclubs much easier."

She laughs, feeling a moment of lightness. "That too."

He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his black sweatpants. "Well I have an appointment in the batting cages."

"I've got a date with the elliptical so I'll see you in a little while?"

He nods and is about to turn and leave but stops. Ginny looks at him questioning and the moment is so lightning fast that she hasn't processed his lips on her forehead or his hand between her thin shoulder blades before he's let her go. He frowns at her, ready to explain, but she holds up her hand, looks around quickly to make sure no one saw. She smiles at him and nods, knowing what he meant. He walks away and she notices the slight bounce of his gait, thinking that he'd twisted his ankle one too many times. It was one of those things only an athlete would notice. She turns to leave and a meaty hand locks on her elbow. She doesn't even have to look up at the face of its owner to know who it is.

She thinks she'll just have to grow accustomed to her stomach living in her shoes as he pulls her to an empty corner. She finally looks up at his face and he's frowning—scowling—his nostrils flared. "What the fuck was that?"

She almost calls it nothing, almost explains, but she remembers that they're not those people anymore, that now they keep secrets and lie. "What was what?"

"He kissed your forehead!" His whisper is so harsh that she almost flinches but instead wrenches her elbow free.

She decides to tell the truth because she's better than him. "It wasn't like that."

"The hell it wasn't. Are you fucking him?" Her eyes widen and his do the same as he realizes what he's said, realizes he doesn't have the right to ask. Ginny swallows her screeching voice, buries the urge to rip him a new one, because she realizes she wasn't alone in the hazy gray of their friendship. She realizes he'd felt it too, the slow falling, the tipping point where they became more than friends. When he speaks again, his voice is much softer, his expression supplicant. "Gin, I didn't mean to ask that. I don't have the right to ask that. I just—"

She feels her fire extinguish, dampened by the tears pricking the corners of her eyes. "Miss me. I miss you too, Mike. But it's different now."

She's never seen her cocky captain look so earnest, so needy. "Don't say that. Please don't fucking say that. Call me a shitbag. A lying son of a bitch. A fucking liar. Anything. But don't say that. Things can't be different."

"You lied to me. You said I had to be open, to trust you, and you were lying to me every day. I might have been okay with you just hiding it, but I asked you straight up about Amelia and you lied. And I'm not a little girl like everyone thinks. I know people lie. But I thought we were better than that." She's shaking, trying so hard to cry because _goddammit_ she won't give him the satisfaction of her tears, won't make him worthy of her brokenness. Her fists clench and release, clench and release. "I… I laid myself bare. I told you my truth. And you told me yours. Then you turn around and lie to me about some cheap fling like I can't handle it, like we're not better than that. Aren't we? Weren't we?"

Her voice cracks and _fuck it_ , she'll break her rule. Tom Hanks will have to be pissed. There will be crying in baseball today as she chokes out sobs, the sleeve of her jacket half covering her face. She doesn't fight his embrace, doesn't deprive herself because she's missed it and he owes her at least comfort for breaking her heart like she's in high school again, mooning over boys who call her "bro."

He holds her tighter than he means to, forgetting his strength, because he's missed her so much. For the first time in his life, he's raw and capitulating, apologizing like he's confessing his dying sins. He goes further than he's ever gone—even with Rachel—and tells his truth unabashedly. "I'm so fucking sorry, Ginny. I didn't tell you because I thought… I thought if you knew I was the kind of guy who'd sleep with someone just because they were there, if you knew I was selfish enough to do that, you'd stop feeling like you do, looking at me like you do. The way you look at me makes me… I'm not such a piece of shit fuck up when you look at me. I'm good when you look at me, when I'm around you. And I couldn't tell you that. I still can't tell you how much you mean to me. You've got the world ahead of you, and I'm washed up. I lied because you deserve better."

She's settled down, wiping her face with her dry sleeve. Her nose is in the crook of his neck, smooth freckled skin brushing the stubble where his beard has grown down, and finally—Mike almost shouts his thanks to a god he's not sure he believes in—when her arms circle around him. She sniffs. "You don't have the right to tell me what I deserve, to make choices like that for me. I'm a rookie, not a little girl."

"Yes," is the only thing he can utter because his nose is her hair, breathing in the soft scent of strawberries and lemons that he'd almost forgotten. Almost. He doesn't care who sees them, who might have questions. He's got the simplest answer in the world.

"Don't ever do it again."

"Okay."

She smiles, wipes at her flushed face, finally looks up at him. "I've missed you, old man."

He lifts her up, swings her around, laughs when she shrieks. He sets her down, keeps grinning, holding her again. "I've missed you too, Baker."

And she believes him. They're those people again. He's her guy. She kisses his Adam's apple jumps and it jumps with his sharp inhale. He presses his lips to her forehead then makes a trail down to her lips where he lingers until she pushes him away. She's smiling hard now, her dimples popping out. "You're gonna make me late."

He laughs and lets her go, gives her ass a smack for old time's sake. "Get to it, rookie."

X

She's in the shower when she hears the front door open. She knows who it is, goes back to showering. Things between are different again, but in a different way. She's found her lightness again, the robot mask gone. She hangs around after practice, goes out with the guys, kicks everyone's ass at foosball. At the clubhouse, on the field, he's still her captain and she's still his rookie. But now he smiles at her whenever he thinks no one's looking, even made her hang back before a game to press a good luck kiss to her lips. At home, he's just Mike. He cuddles her, calls her Gin, teases her about her inept cooking though he's not much better.

"Get a move on, rookie!" He's loud enough to be clearly heard over the shower's roar because that's who he is. "I'm hungry."

Ginny smiles and turns off the water, telling herself it's because it's gone tepid, not because she's missed his stupid hairy face. She leaves the bathroom in her towel, plops on the couch beside him, tosses her bottle of Nivea lotion in his lap. "Get to it, captain."

He moves slowly up her legs, rubs extra lotion on the little bruises she's gotten on the field, and from him. He pauses then looks up at her. "You know you're my best friend."

She smiles back, leans over to scratch that damn beard that she's grown to love in spite of herself. "I know."


End file.
